THURSDAY 8/9

(Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie) Marc Broussard lies somewhere between the cachet of Joss Stone and the corniness of Taylor "Soul Patrol" Hicks, with a sound that recalls greasier times minus the threat of stains. Take the Louisianan's new album, SOS: Save Our Soul, for example, which rifles though the soul songbook for cover material. It's flavorful and light on account of Broussard's credible voice and "any man" charm, but fleeting and occasionally towed under by over-ambition; his earnest take on Al Green's "Love & Happiness" is particularly wincing. Peckish New York-based singer/songwriter Toby Lightman opens, and will likely join Broussard for their cute cover of Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell's "If I Could Build My Whole World Around You." Broussard's self-styled soul revue is a backward-leaning spectacle that is not without its moments. JALYLAH BURRELL

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) Despite a name that sounds like a washing machine setting, Spindrift are actually a droning psychedelic Western band hailing from the dusty trails of, well, Los Angeles. While their rambling bio is a bit confusing ("Spindrift is the greatest band you've never heard of and it's your fault"), it appears that the band's roots date back to 1993 in the very un-psychedelic city of Ocean City, Maryland. Regardless, the druggy spaghetti western band now calls the City of Angels home—that is, when they aren't stagecoaching about the country supporting the likes of Black Angels and Dead Meadow. So saddle on up for the the Spindrift experience, which is sure to feel like wandering out of the sun-baked dunes of Death Valley while clutching a Flying Burrito Brothers LP and gumming a mouthful of peyote. EZRA ACE CARAEFF

FRIDAY 8/10

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) For years Mike Dillon, caveman shawl and all, has bounced between bands—a stint with Les Claypool's Fancy Band and Frog Brigade here, a tour with Ani DiFranco there, even forming a few bands of his own along the way. For the listening pleasure of you and many others, Dillon has pulled together members of his various groups (Billy Goat drummer "Go-Go" Ray Pollard, bassist J.J. "Jungle" Richards, and Malachy Paper saxophonist Mark Southerland) and formed Mike Dillon's Go-Go Jungle, a funk-jazz combo emitting a sound that finds Bobby Hutcherson chemically bonded with Jaco Pastorius. Dillon, a self-styled "punk-rock vibraphonist," leads the chaotic charge, filling the empty spaces with bright explosions of vibrating sound. Disparate influences emerge throughout, but at the core, it's all Dillon—a force of vibraphone nature, and an energetically humming core alight at the middle of this massively talented group. NOAH SANDERS

SMEGMA, FURSAXA, FAMILY UNDERGROUND, EYES LIKE SAUCERS (Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Pl) Fursaxa's TAra Burke (the deliberate capitalization was her idea, not ours) has released a pair of albums on ATP Recordings, including this year's Alone in the Dark Wood, although previously her music has seen release on labels managed by the likes of Thurston Moore and Acid Mothers Temple. Tune in during the chiming, plucked strings heard on "Sheds Her Skin" and you might be tempted to associate Burke with a folk revivalist movement; elsewhere, languorous drones and pipes suggest buried mysteries in a pastoral landscape. Burke's vocal approach, a constant through her work, hearkens back to early music, and "Nawne Ye" is two minutes and change of stark, layered vocals that are particularly compelling and seem to beam through time from some 13th century cathedral. Come for the outsider-rock cred and experimental sensibility, stay for your secret love of the human voice at its most sonorous. TOBIAS CARROLL

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) I am a big sucker when it comes to that deep, fuzzy, synth-bass sound, and when you combine it with big harmonious vocals and simple drums—like Another Cynthia does on "One Way Out"—you've got my attention. But then, when you drop everything out and leave just a few choir-chords? That's when I'm hooked. On "Head Turns," Another Cynthia bust out that staccato Interpol/Franz Ferdinand guitar that the kids love these days, and throw in a bit of menacing, Faint-style keyboards. The Hugs open with their catchy, fun, '60s-inspired rock 'n' roll. JIM WITHINGTON

(Hawthorne Theatre, 1507 SE 39th) Okay, somebody better put in a phone call to their lawyer, or a violent band name fight is about to go down. In one corner you have hipster band du jour, Deerhunter, fronted by the controversial, rail-thin Bradford Cox. In the other corner, you have primed and proper emo quintet The Dear Hunter. I'm not going to even mention the movie here—there isn't nearly enough room for that now. But there is plenty of room to talk about how the latter hunter is the inferior of the two (or three, if you count Christopher Walken in a red headband), as their light-on-substance alt-emo borrows from baby-prog bands like the Mars Volta, yet still tries to aim for the Coldplay stars with some ballads as well. If quality decided these sorts of things, Deerhunter would win the name, unless of course, the two bands wanted to play a little Russian roulette for the naming rights. Mau! Mau! Didi Mau! EAC

TRAGEDY (Rock 'n' Roll Pizza, 11140 SE Powell) It doesn't take a glance at the stark lyric sheet or cover artwork to figure out that Tragedy's 2006 album Nerve Damage abounds with apocalyptic imagery. The roars of guitarist Todd Burdette and bassist Billy Davis atop dense, blasting hardcore have much the same effect as their lyrics of "A barren landscape of a ravaged world/Forgotten remnants of a savage war." It's also—at its best moments—gripping, the sort of music that reminds this reviewer of just how he came to find hardcore compelling in the first place. The blistering bass 'n' drums play a part as well, as they resonate with more than a little menace to them. It's a welcome dose of intelligence and distinctive attitude (the band eschews a web presence and has released three albums on their own Tragedy Records), and the fact that you can move to it, well, that's just an added bonus. TC

SUNDAY 8/12

DE DE MAU, PINE HILL HAINTS, RED HERRING

(Valentine's, 232 SW Ankeny) See Once More with Feeling, pg. 37.

PAPER CAMERAS, SHINY THINGS

(Slabtown, 1033 NW 16th) Paper Cameras, the songwriting output of Michael Carothers, show a remarkable propensity for wearing their influences on their sleeves. In this case, they not only seem to be channeling Devo by way of the B-52's on "Unclear Atoms" ("Algebra! Divisible! The Unclear Atoms!"), but they also play a raucous Kinks cover of "Wicked Annabella" that, as good covers often do, makes me want to dig up the original for another listen. Carothers sticks mostly to the brash rock that Slabtown typically promotes—which is good, because the louder he plays, the better he sounds—but there's also a curveball acoustic song ("The Dogs of New Year's Day") in there that seems to be a bit of a stretch. JW

BROKEN TEETH

(Berbati's Pan, 10 SW 3rd) While the hard rock—or "rawk," if you will—of Broken Teeth isn't anything new, there are few better ways to waste a Sunday evening than by getting acquainted with far too many beers and watching this Texas quintet take the Berbati's stage. Please do not expect any surprises, touching moments of clarity, or deep-rooted artistic sentiments here, because Broken Teeth is a one-trick imitation pony that sounds as close to AC/DC as a band can without dressing their guitarist in a schoolboy's outfit. Singer Jason McMaster pulls off the Bon Scott howl so well that had he been drunk on Fosters and singing in 1980, Brian Johnson would be out of a job right now. EAC

MONDAY 8/13

GREAT NORTHERN, THE COMAS, MATT SHEEHY

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!, pg. 17.

APE SHAPE, YOGOMAN BURNING BAND, NODDING TREE REMEDIES

(Someday Lounge, 125 NW 5th) There's something so very Portland about Ape Shape. Of course, they are our city's finest party band, yet at the same time, the Shapers are politically active, socially aware, and fearless enough to know that brains do indeed belong on the dancefloor. (which in itself is a revolutionary concept). This is the People's Dance Party, a shuffling lineup with no designated leader that is just as concerned with moving your hips as changing the world. Rhythm and ambition have seldom gone well together, but here in Portland, and with Ape Shape, they make a splendid team. Revolution and dancing haven't gone together this well since Emma Goldberg. EAC

(The Know, 2026 NE Alberta) Denver's Kingdom of Magic cast a rejuvenating rock spell on the term "power trio." Their sound is loud, fuzzy, and classic, without seeming tired or played out. Other psychedelic stoner groups like Mammatus and Dead Meadow are obvious modern touchstones; the sound is more hypnotic and melodic than actually crushing. These cats do a great job of syncopating their riffs over solid rock beats in inventive ways that would make Zeppelin or AC/DC proud if they weren't too rich and old to pay attention. It's the incessant nature of the riffs that works best, though, on campy animal-themed songs like "Mighty Manatee" and "Gravity Falcon." NATHAN CARSON

TOAD THE WET SPROCKET, THE VERVE PIPE

(Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside) Setting aside for a moment my total disbelief that Toad the Wet Sprocket still exists, makes records (even live ones), and tours, I'm left with a band whose music I really like. I only stopped liking them because I was a kid, and like most kids, I got distracted by, well, everything else in the world. That said, Toad the Wet Sprocket are as much a buried treasure of poppy alt-country as the better storied and more revered Gin Blossoms. The hooks are there, the harmonies, the hit singles, and, apparently, the 10-years-later tour. Don't get me wrong, you put bands like Toad the Wet Sprocket and the Verve Pipe (who, let's be honest, are simply unremarkable and haven't released a new tune in six years) on the same bill and you have a bonfire nostalgia tour, no doubt about it. But if it helps people come to the realization that Toad the Wet Sprocket were (are?) a truly good band with a silly name, well, then it's good to have them back. Welcome back, Sprockets! HANNAH CARLEN

TUESDAY 8/14

MARK OLSON, McCARTHY TRENCHING

(Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside) See My, What a Busy Week!, pg. 17.

PELICAN, CLOUDS, GARGANTULA

(Satyricon, 125 NW 6th) See My, What a Busy Week!, pg. 17.

CLAMPITT GADDIS & BUCK, PINE HILL HAINTS

(Alberta Street Public House, 1036 NE Alberta) See Once More with Feeling, pg. 37.

(Rotture, 315 SE 3rd) Perhaps Portland's only self-described DJ night held "in honor of the grand tradition of Metal," Mancampus runs the breadth of all things metal, hard rock, and even noise-related. The weekly gig is headed up and DJ'd by Joe Preston, whose discography includes such bands as Thrones, the Melvins, Sun 0))), Harvey Milk, High on Fire, the Whip, and far too many more to list here. Tonight he welcomes Rabbits—a metal band, to be sure, but one with enough sludged-out undertones and full-on rocking to break the typical Portland metal mold. Supporting the bill are Colorado's Kingdom of Magic, and the wailing, careening, crunched-out local band Diesto. I've never been a hesher, but if I woke up tomorrow and wished I were, Mancampus is where I'd start. HC

WEDNESDAY 8/15

MINNIE DRIVER

(Music Millennium NW, 801 NW 23rd; Doug Fir, 830 E Burnside, w/Laura Gibson) I don't believe in God, but I believe in fate, and this is fate. Music Millennium NW is on the cusp of closing—and when this respected Portland institution disappears, our city will never be the same. But mere days before the doors are shut for good, Minnie Driver shows up for an in-store performance (singing, not acting). According to an online source, Ms. Driver's films have generated more than $1.9 billion, which means the woman has plenty of scratch to save Music Millennium NW. Which she surely will do, right Minnie? What kind of a monster wouldn't help those in need? After her deep pockets single-handedly saved this Portland landmark, Driver will perform at Doug Fir; consider this a celebration party for her endless generosity. But if for some horrible reason the store still closes, then shift your blame from the gentrification of NW 23rd, or the crumbling music industry, and blame Driver. It's all in your hands, Minnie. Only you can do what is right. EAC

EZRA FURMAN & THE HARPOONS, PEOPLE NOISE, GREGORY MILES HARRIS

(Towne Lounge, 714 SW 20th Pl) The jury is still out on Chicago's Ezra Furman. Most of the time when I listen to the wonderful Banging Down the Doors, released last week on Minty Fresh, I think the guy is an absolute songwriting genius, one who rambles and rants his way through expanding pop songs, each better than the last. But much like anyone who pushes the boundaries, Furman's overachieving tendencies (and nasally voice) can be a bit grating at times. I suppose small doses are best, as his Dylanistic tunes need a little prescription of Ritalin™ just to stay focused, but when they do, it's something truly special and not to be missed. Not even in an attempt to catch a fleeting glimpse of Minnie Driver. EAC

(Mississippi Pizza Pub, 3552 N Mississippi) San Francisco's Birds and Batteries float in on a wave of synths on their latest album, I'll Never Sleep Again. Songs like "Star Clusters" show an electric keyboard buzz overpowering in a way that's sure to liven up this pizza joint. "Ocarina" starts off with an 8-bit riff that takes me back to my Dragon Warrior days, cemented further with the "give me a song to remember the world by" lyrics. One of the most impressive things about this band, however, is their range, one that is not afraid to include some slide guitar on the title track, which in turn, makes them sound like a 21 century cowboy. JW

(Lola's Room, 1332 W Burnside) This is what happens, Emily Haines, when you put your band Metric on hold to go it alone—the rhythm section goes solo. Or in this case, they went duo. Joshua Winstead and Joules Scott-Key, the American half of Metric and the pair behind Bang Lime, are far less uptight than their Canadian bandmates. Sure, the charismatic Haines isn't residing behind the mic, but who needs her when you have the party jams of this power duo? Sounding like Sonic Youth in the prime of their DGC days, their debut Best Friends in Love is a healthy slab of punchy rock and lyrical smarts. EAC